


Thats The Way It Is

by aangbenders



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Sadie and Charles try helping Jack get back on his feet, Tags will be updated, Tilly is a Worried Aunt™️
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aangbenders/pseuds/aangbenders
Summary: “The many miles we walkedThe many things we learnedThe building of a shrineOnly just to burn”Its 1915, a new Era is beginning, and Jack Marston is lost in a world where outlaws like him are no longer needed.
Kudos: 7





	Thats The Way It Is

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what happened to Jack after the events of RDR1, so i wrote this.

His main source of sleep was the hotel rooms in the various towns he stayed at, rarely ever did he return back home.

It was painful to go back, so he left it open to rot, for squatters and whoever else came across it to rob the house until there was nothing left in it.

But after a not-so-great altercation with a bank teller in Blackwater, his only choice was to ride back to the rotting shell of what used to be Beechers Hope until the town forgot his face and name.

It had changed since he was a boy, when his father first built it. The animals that once filled the grounds with noise had either been stolen or sold off, the barns no longer stood tall and proud but instead caved in, rotting, and willing to break within seconds of rainfall.

And the house, just as he thought, had been stripped bare, drawers had been pulled out and thrown to the ground, furniture had been flipped around and moved, piano keys ripped from their places, curtains ripped apart.

The photo of his parents, from when they first brought the home, was thrown on the ground and ripped from the back, surely due to some greedy asshole believing there was money behind or inside.

Reaching for his holster, he placed a hand on his gun as he walked on the rotted, wooden flooring, looking into each individual room.

The master bedroom had been stripped bare as well, the mattress flipped upside-down, the torn up bedsheet thrown off to the side.

He lifted his hand off of the holster and sighed, flopping down onto the mattress

”jesus, Marston” he thought to himself, looking up at his hands “this is pathetic, you are pathetic”

Here he was, a grown adult, sitting in the ruins of his home, and doing nothing about it. But what was a man with zero friends or family, who ran with outlaws for half his life, supposed to do in this world?

He couldnt run to any of the former gang members who were still alive, they moved on from that life, he couldn’t burden them with his problems.

  
  


He spent hours lying in the bed, spinning the barrell of his gun as he thought back on everything that happened in his life, wondering what might have happened if he and his mother hadn't returned to Beechers Hope, if they hadn't ran after Micah.

His trance of thought was broken as he heard the loud clomping of horses in the distance. he sprung up from his bed and placed his gun in the holster.

_well, Marston. This is it, your past finally caught up with you. No turning back now._

He got up from the bed, beginning to walk towards the door, and took a deep breath towards his untimely doom.

As he opened the door, two figures on horses stopped in his tracks, and his heart began to stop.

”Little Jackie Marston, its been a while”


End file.
